


Neither Nor

by karelian



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, Crushes, Friendship, Loneliness, M/M, POV Alternating, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-12
Updated: 2003-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karelian/pseuds/karelian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may not be an Elf, but there's something about Orlando.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not a hobbit, not a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the contrelamontre show-don't-tell assignment. I've never tried improv before so it ends really abruptly to beat the clock. Finished in 29 minutes.

Dom has invited Orlando to go out drinking with the hobbits, and in a few minutes, he'll go. Everyone expects him to go out with them since he's their age, even if he spends all day inside the head of an immortal elf. The others tease him when he goes too deeply into character, especially Viggo, who has an unnerving ability to turn it on and off...one moment he's Aragorn, but the next, he's wrestling with Sean on the ground, yelling curses that would have made Tolkien blush. They don't make Beanie blush though. He just laughs and tells Viggo he's fucking crazy.

Now it's evening, and Viggo and Sean are at the back of the makeup trailer discussing where they should go for dinner. Next to Orlando, John calls out the names of world-class seafood restaurants, but Sean seems determined to talk Viggo into tracking down a pub that might show sports highlights. Orlando remembers one in Wellington, not the sort of place Dom and Billy prefer -- a rather quiet, dour bar where everyone's completely focused on the telly. The sort of place where Viggo would start doodling on a napkin and end up writing half an opus while Sean shouted occasional advice at the players on the little screen.

They'd hardly notice Orlando if he went to a place like that with them, they'd both be so lost in whatever had their attention. That's one of the things Viggo and Sean like about each other: that they can go places together yet still do their own thing. Of course Orlando might throw off the balance. He might talk too much, ask Viggo what he was working on or try to get Sean to fill him in on what's going on with Manchester United or the World Cup or whatever it is he's itching to watch.

Maybe that's why they've never asked him to come along when they've headed out together after shooting. Orlando has had dinner with Viggo a few times in local restaurants where they were both somehow too conspicuous -- well, Orlando was probably conspicuous with his hair and all, but at any rate, people seemed to be watching them. He's had dinner with Sean too, easygoing conversations over drinks about American movies and British directors and being on location. They both know he's not always the nut he can be hanging out with Dominic and Elijah, who egg him on and inspire him to craziness.

Orlando knows he's not really one of the hobbits, and he's sure as hell not a Sir Ian or a John. When Sean's not around, Viggo talks to him a lot, or at least as much as Viggo ever talks to anyone outside his own head. Orlando's sure that if someone asked him, Viggo would say they were friends. And when Viggo's busy with the Rivendell elves, he and Sean hang out. But when Viggo and Sean are working together, they're completely focused on one another, and when they get together away from the shoot, they sometimes seem to be in their own world even if everyone else is hanging around.

Billy sticks his head in to tell Orlando that Elijah's been talking to Peter and they're running a little late. Overhearing, John offers Orlando crackers and some of his fruit juice to tide him over; John's trying to eat healthy, hoping his skin allergies will go away if he eats better food, though the diet makes him as grumpy as the rash. Just then Viggo and Sean pass through on their way out, each of them clasping one of Orlando's shoulders as they walk around him. He smiles at them each in turn; they tell him to have fun with the other guys and leave, walking side by side, close enough to bump elbows.

When Orlando glances at John again, he finds himself being scrutinized. It's not surprising that they're the odd men out in the Fellowship. The hobbits have each other, the men have each other, and everyone's a tiny bit in awe of the wizard. Orlando shrugs with both hands in the air, one beside each shoulder, and John nods.


	2. Flurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shooting the snowstorm, it's hard to keep from melting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For contrelamontre's smell challenge. Disclaimer: I don't think all these people were in this place at the same time in real life.

They are buried in polystyrene flakes that reek of burning plastic. It's over a hundred degrees under the lights. Viggo can smell the sweet powder scent of his makeup sweating off, and the sharp dizzying odor of the melting glue that holds his wig in place. But at least he's allowed to look uncomfortable. Orlando's supposed to maintain an elf's imperviousness, despite the burning pellets and the contacts and the harsh fake wind.

"This fucking stuff is in my underwear," groans Dom, pressed much too close for comfort to Sean. They're trying to look like they're freezing, huddled together for warmth. Instead they look like prisoners of war, clinging to each other in the midst of jungle heat because human contact is even more important than whatever physical ease can be found. The scale doubles, off to the side waiting for the next set of shots, don't look any happier.

"You stink, Viggo," says Elijah in a tired voice. His head is hobbit-level, practically in Viggo's armpit. "Has this thing been washed since the marshes?" He tugs on Aragorn's costume, pulling it out of position and allowing more flakes of the crap floating around in the air to creep inside. Elijah's hair smells like sweat and molten plastic and traces of clove cigarettes from the trailer. Viggo only shakes his head.

"I want," says Orlando, "to take a three-hour bath. As soon as we finish today, I say we go check into a hotel with a giant hot tub." He isn't looking at anyone as he says this, so it's hard to tell who's the intended recipient of his statement. It's impossible to believe that Orlando could sit still for three hours in a tub, anyway.

"I'm in," says Sean. Viggo glances up in surprise, straight into the foul, brutal breeze from the fans circulating the flakes, to find glinting green eyes focused on him. "How 'bout you?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Orlando looks from one to the other and grins. Beneath Viggo's arm, Elijah turns up his head, giggling. Sean winks, still holding Viggo's gaze, and for the first time all day, he feels shivery.


	3. Public Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are all looking at Orlando but they see someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all made up except the crowds at the 'Two Towers' premiere and the line stolen from Ted Casablanca's column. Written for the Contrelamontre vision challenge, 25 minutes, totally unplanned.

They are all looking at him, but they see someone else.

Some of them picture long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. To them, that will always be the real Orlando, faster than any human and forever young. They want Legolas, even if tonight he has brown hair and dark eyes and a beard. They can overlook those trappings to see his inner elf.

Some of them see a punk with a mohawk who's crazy and high on life. He's that kid who's afraid of nothing -- not even making a jackass of himself. They don't believe that's a performance just as much as any character in a film. When he lets his guard down and talks about how he really feels doing some of those things, stupid and scared, then they think he's acting.

Some of them only see a celebrity. He's young and flashy and everyone is looking at him...and whether or not any of it means a thing to him, that's what they expect him to focus on. In twenty years they may see a photo in a magazine, see how he looks when he's Sean Bean's age, and they may shut their eyes because he's no longer the golden boy they remember, no matter what he's become.

Some of them see a guy Orlando might never recognize, though Dom and Elijah have laughed through the stories and described that guy to his namesake. That version's an insecure kid with a crush on an older man. Orlando hasn't exactly made a secret of how much he likes to touch people, and how easily he cries when he's homesick. He also hasn't kept secret how bonkers he is about Viggo, though it's hard to guess the exact nature of that connection, even for people who know them both. It's pretty hard to tell whether Orlando draws rigid distinctions between what's platonic and what's not.

But he hasn't made a secret about a lot of other things that some of the people who watch him seem to ignore. Some of them see a guy they want to hang out with, or have lunch with, or date, which is pretty funny because they have no idea what he can be like, the good stuff and the bad.

And some of them have ideas for movies he should do, or clothes he'd look good in, or people he'd look good standing next to. They are all looking at him, taking photos of him, describing him, yet in a way he's invisible. That makes him safe.

And me as well.

I hug him tighter than I would if we were alone, or if there weren't hundreds of people looking at us. He laughs, "Tongue in my ear," loudly enough for the reporter nearby to overhear and make gleeful notes. Flashes light the space around us so that for a moment I'm blind to everything but Orlando and his smile, focused on me, only on me.

Then the brightness fades, and his smile shifts, and they are all looking at him. Seeing someone else.


End file.
